Corrupted
by Cerceulme
Summary: Just try to live normally when your life is so corrupted. Drug use, violence, non-consentual sex, swearing, suicide, murder, abuse.
1. Default Chapter

_Pain. Blinding pain, searing through every vein, every muscle, every particle of her body. Pain that erases any thoughts of anything, except of the pain. Laughing voices, the pain subsides to a duller state, still she daren't open her eyes, doesn't want to see their faces. Tears streaming down the sides of her face and into her ears, uncontrolled. Tears mixing with blood. the stench of blood filling her nose, blood covering her and the room and her tormenters, all hers. They laugh, still laughing at her poor thin body, all broken bones and sliced flesh and blood, blood everywhere, laying on her back on the floor of a dark stone room hidden deep in an old house, where noone that might help could ever hear her screams. A torture chamber. She can't move much, her broken body won't agree with her, so she lays and tried not to cry, for when she cries, sobs wrack her chest and envelope her in pain again and again. She can feel a body come closer, crouch next to her. She keeps her eyes shut still, afraid. Big hands stroke her cheek, crusted in blood. Big fingers trace a gash along her cheeckbone, stinging. _

_"Ready to cooperate now, my sweet?" a mans voice asks the shivering girl, his face lowered near to hers. She turns her face away from his voice but the big hand grabs it and yanks it back to his. _

_"Look at me." he commands in a low voice, but she keeps her eys shut still. Cold steel is places to the soft flesh under her right eye, already bruised purple. _

_"I said look at me, you litle whore!. Look at me, or I'll cut out your eyes, and you'll never look at anything again." The knife presses a bit harder, her skin stings where it makes a miniscle cut, barley enough to draw anymore blood. She opens her eyes, pale blue looking up into the shadow of his face. She can see the knife in the bottom of her vision, but doesn't dare look directly at it. _

_"Ah, I see you are finally ready to cooperate. Much better." She can hear the triumph in his voice. He wrenches her knees apart, she has not the strength to resist anymore, nor even the will. They then take turns with her, the little slave-slut that she is. She looks up into their faces, not daring to look away or close her eyes again, tears still streaming into her ears, except now her tears are silent. She lays still as they fuck her, playing with her broken body, with their favorite toy. The little mutt, her blood twisted with many different creatures, and barely any human. Her eyes are blank, she still feels pain but she's crawled to the back of her mind, hiding, staying as far from reality as she can._

_They last one finishes, one of them takes out a camrea, the flash goes off. They like to take pictures of her, damaged, in pain. _

_Finally the darkness comes, beckoning, enveloping her, calling her away from the pain. She sinks into it, leaving behind their laughter._


	2. A new life

Ophelia sat on the train, by herself in a compartment. She had changed into her new school robes, and was looking into a hand mirror. Anyone passing would think her a vain little creature, applying makeup, making sure it was well done, making it perfect. But for most of the time there was no one to talk past and see, and along with the makup, she added charms, concealing what she could not let others see. She hid the bruises and scabs, and the small scars that had not yet faded. Her school robes hid her thin figure, se was grateful for that. She didn't want people staring. But with the makeup and the charms and the baggy robes, she would be as invisible as she would ever be; simply another student in Hogwards, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

A figure passed by her door again, she had seen many during the ride so far, people rushing back and forth to say hello to all their old friends. Ophelia had noone to greet as such, as she would only be starting at the school this year, although she would be going into her sixth year. She would be younger than her classmates though, as her former school worked above the levels of Hogwarts. This time, the figure didn't pass thought, instead it stopped just outside her door and knocked, and the door opened. Standing in the doorway was a pretty looking girl in Hogwarts robes, pretty looking if you ignored her hair, that is. Wich was hard to do, as if was quite big and frizzy.

"Hello," said the girl with the hair to Ophelia. "You're the new girl, aren't you? A few people are talking, saying the saw someone they didn't recognise. I thought I might come make you feel more at home, it's hard to have to start new school isn't it? But you'll settle in soon enough. I'm Hermione Granger, in sixth year. What year are you going into?" Hermione gibbered on, sounding bossy as usual.

"Sixth year." replied Ophelia.

"Oh how wonderful! Myabe we'll even be in the same house. I'm in Gryffindor, the same one that the headmaster Albus Dumbledore was in, did you know? He's very famous, and very poweful, I'm sure you've read it in one of the school books already, because of course, you would have read them already. That's the best way to start the year, I think. Makes things a bit easier. Not that they're hard, really. If you pay attention, anyway. Oh and by the way, what's your name?"

Ophelia was a bit put off by this strange girls manner, but forced a small smile through the Hermiones speach as to not seem rude.

"Ophelia..." she paused, trying to quickly remember the last name they had gven her to use while she was with humans. Then she remembered. "Ophelia Hathridge" she said quickly, trying not to make the pause noticeable.

"Well, I'd best be off. I'm sure I'll be seeing you in the school sometime soon." Ophelia curled her mouth up into a small smile, and Hermione turned and left. Alone again, Ophelia sighed. She wasn't used to poeple talking so much, or so fast. She guessed she'd have to get used to it.

The train journey finally ended, the students filed off the train in their friendship groups, and the first years toddled off to a giant man calling out to them. She followed the rest of the students to the carriages, and got into a random one. It had only one other person in it, a thin boy with a sharp face and pale colouring like herself. He looked familiar, but she couldn't place his face. As the cariage lurched off along the path heading for the school, they were silent. As Ophealia stared out the window, she could feel his staring eyes burning into the side of her head, and turned to look at him.

"Draco Malfoy." was all he said, his way of introduction, feeling that it was somehting that should be done. Her eyes darted over him quickly, taking him in: over his face, his hair, his body, trying to place his features. Even his name, Malfoy, sounded familiar.

"Ophelia Hathridge." she replied, saying the new name for the second time. She couldn't go around saying her real elven name, her people didn't want the humans to know about her if it could be avoided. This simple introduction was enough to put them both a bit more at ease though, for now they were not complete strangers, and could go back to pondering the scenery outside in their silence.

When the carriages finally arrived at the castle, and the students started filing out, she followed them into the hall. She was intercepted by one of the teachers, a severe looking woman with her hair in a tight bun and glasses, who led her away from the crowd.

"Miss Hathridge, I believe?" she asked Ophelia, one of her eyebrows raised. Ophelia nodded. "I'm Professor McGonagall. You're to come with me, you'll be sorted with the first years. Follow me, please." and the Professor wisked off, Ophelia in tow, and stood beside her as she greeted the first years with the same speach she used every year.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall..." Ophelia let her mind wander, leaving McGonagall to prattle on about the sorting and the houses. She looked around, taking in her surroundings, the vast stone halls, the high roofs, the portraits, and the scared little first years. McGonagall left through huge wooden doors, and the children started talking amongst themselves abut what houses they wanted to be in or thought they might end up in. She stood still where the Professor had left her, up in front of the first years but ignored by them all as they babbled anxiously to eachother.

The Professor then re-entered the hallway, and with a "Come along." from her, the nervous first years and Ophelia followed McGonagall into the hallway, past the tables with the students that made up the rest of the school, and up to the front, in front of the teachers table. One by one, they were called up, and sorted into the four houses. Whenever the sorting hat called out the name of one of the houses, the corresponding table would break out into cheers and aplause, and an excited little first year would take its place at that table. Ophelia was left standing next to McGonagall.

"I would also like to introduce another new studant into our midst," started the Professor. "Ophelia Hawthridge has transfered to Hogwartsto begin her sixth year. I trust you will all make her feel welcome here."

She turned to Ophelia, and beconed her over to where the Sorting Hat sat. The hat was put onto her head, and immediately she wanted it off. This strange hat could see into her head! This was not right at all. She could feel the hat assesing her. It instantly knew of her bloodline, almost totally inhuman, filled with Elves and Veela and Vampires and a line of wizards and witches of the black arts, the Morte line. She was bred for evil, this little one, and the Soring Hat could feel it running through her blood even now, though it may not be put into use for quite a time. This was a girl who would do whateer she had to to get what she wanted, use whatever means were available.

"Slytherin!" the Hat announced, and the table of other Slytherins erupted into cheers and clapping.

She wanted to hide. She couldn"t stand this manby people looking at her, not when she wanted to be invisible. She scanned the table as she walked, and spotted what she was looking for: the only other person she knew in the house. She saw his head of white blonde hair, like her own. He saw her, and beckoned her over, saying to a big boy next to him "Move over Goyle, make some room you great lump!" and the other boy moved. Ophelia sat next to Draco as Dumbledore stood up at the front of the hall and made his greeting speach to the students, and then food appeared on the table. She had never seen so much food, it sickened her. So much of this would go to waste, and she was brought up against wasting things. She pulled a small bit of food onto her pate, not noticing what it was. She picked at it for a while, then had a bite, then played with it some more. People talked over her, not noticing her because of her quietness. She wouldn't eat. She was fat enough, he told her all the time. It was true. She pushed the plate away, willing the feast to be over. She drank some water, she could have that, at least. Water was filling, without the fat that food has. Yes, water would do. If she got any fatter by the time he got back, he would hurt her for it, she was sure. He would lock her in the tine chimney, all tiny and dark with only the little bit of light way up at the top, and let her starve for days. She wouldn't even get any water, unless it rained. Yes, she was fat enough already.

Except for one boy who didn't notice her, the way she didn't eat, how thin her face was, and her hands and wrists too, showing out from her robes. And the flash of something on her wrist, something that looked scar-like. Couldn't be, he thought. Not on a pretty girl like this. And he put it into the back of his mind, where it stayed hidden, only to pop up and nag every once in a while. He ignored it and ate, and then it was time for them all to go off to their dormitories.

Ophelia didn't like these dungeons, the way they felt like they would close up on you, consume you in darkness, crushing you into dust. with their stone walls and floors and ceilings, torches hung at intervals along the walls.

S_tone room._

She pushed the thought to the back of her mind, smothering it. They went through a portrait of what she was told was Salazar Slytherin, and into the Common room, richly decorated in green and silver, and with huge fireplaces. Yet it stayed cold, the fires casting shadows on things.

_Stone room. Dark figures._

No, she told herself, I won't think about it, I won't! And she tried to banish the thoughts from her mind. People were jostling around her, laughing, teasing the first years, catching up with good friends.

_Stone room. Dark figures. Laughter._

NO! she told herself, and listened to the Prefect telling them where the dormitories were. She followed the trail of girls heading for bed, and went into the dormitories for the sixth years. Her trunk was at the end of a bed, she went to it and pulled out some more confortable clothes than the school uniform. She crawled into bed, pulling the curtains shut around her, took of her robes. She saw her body, pale, ribs and hips sticking out, small breasts, bruises, scabs, scars. She was ugly. She traced the scars at her wrists, the only ones she had given herself. It would have worked, if he hadn't found her and stopped it. Then he was extra cruel, she had to be punished. He wouldn't have his little toy dying, not by her own hand. He would not let her escape like that.

Abandoning her pajamas, she slipped under the blankets and hugged herself, curled into a ball. She cried silently, so that the other girls wouldn't hear. It was cold, they were in the dungeons. The other girls were still moving about, and the lights were on, they cast shadows on her bed curtains. They were talking and laughing, old friends finally reunited after a long summer.

A cold sone room. Dark figures looming around her. Voices, laughter. She hugged herself tighter, willing the deep darkness of sleep to come and steal her from this waking nightmare.


End file.
